Playhouse, August 29, 2012

he world and its high-tech inventors confirm the fact that there’s a vast number of serious thinkers. I am not in that number. I fall into that category of persons who say: Why didn’t I think of that? The plastic mayonnaise containers that replaced the glass jars that always broke instead of bouncing were grand ideas. Why didn’t I think of that? The pre-measured detergent packets that pop into the washer – minus all the fuss or measurements was ingenious. Why didn’t I think of that?

My thinking falls more into the domestic category – the simpler questions that don’t seem to have a logical answer. For instance, there’s one question I ask myself every morning: Why do I make the bed?

I haven’t always asked myself that question. When I was a child, my parents taught me to make up my bed and designated that chore as a daily morning to-do. I don’t remember questioning the chore or failing to comply with it. If I slept in it, I made it up.

Did I add that I’m a slow thinker? Only in the past few years as a grandparent have I pondered this searching question.

There are logical scenarios where the practice would be practical – a grand party with a crowd so large it would spill over into the bedrooms – a prearranged visit by a politician with a camera crew to film virtual reality of the middle class – an open house or a military training maneuver associated with basic training.

Othel said the military was all into bed-making. During his basic training, he was taught to make a bed so tight that an officer could flip a coin on it and the coin would bounce. The only logic I could see in that would be early preparation for future grandchildren bouncing instead of coins!

Most weekends, Othel and I leave the house for studio work and won’t be back until after work. That means I make the bed in the a.m. and the next time I see it, I unmake it for bedtime. There have been no visitors the entire day. Where’s the logic in that bed-making?

I timed it – 50 to 55 seconds and two rounds to each side of the bed every morning. Round it off to one minute per day. That’s a little over six hours per year spent in making my bed.

Why do I continue to do it? It’s a habit molded into my lifestyle by my parents. I can’t explain it or give a reasonable explanation for repeating it every morning. I only know that on rare occasions I’ve walked away from the disheveled covers only to turn back and do what I’ve always done to an unmade bed – make it!

Wouldn’t it be brilliant if parents could (or would) train their children to read God’s Word every morning – to pray without ever missing a day? To train them so that it would become a behavioral pattern for life would truly be life-changing and transforming. Now that’s something to think about!